Poetry
by rhapsodythewise
Summary: The night is beautiful.. Remember that. When Kamui questions Fuuma about how he feels about him, Fuuma gives him an unexpected answer. FuumaxKamui


Poetry- The One-Shot Kamui and Fuuma Story Done Right  
  
Bio: Fuuma (or Dark Kamui) finally tells Kamui how he feels about him. (Obviously a FuumaxKamui!)  
  
I wrote this story... like almost two years ago... I just never... typed it out.. (sorry!) I'm doing it now because it's my first official day of Summer Vacation (June 6th) and just yesterday the Sakura Caller and I had this conversation about Fuuma and his love and the wishes, so I'm typing out my favorite story with the two of them. I think I did it well. Um, basically, it's when Kamui wonders what Fuuma thinks of him and Fuuma tells him. It gets a little citrusy, but nothing explicit. I love this story so much!  
  
Also... I was doing typing this when I should have been updating my stories (such as... Butterfly.... oooo sorry!!! (especially Sakura Caller ^_~)  
  
Disclaimer: Ah... Sniff... these are my boys!!! I really wanted to own them... But alas, I can't have them!!! (WAH!!!) They belong to the ever-working Goddesses named CLAMP  
  
Poetry  
  
The night is beautiful, for it does many things. While the night is feared by most, it should be praised for it's ability to guide with the light of the moon and stars and to shield those who need to hide. It is great and terrible, a blessing and a curse.  
  
A dark clothed figure perched upon the rooftop of a building, the night cloaking with its powers of invisibility. The figure would have never been shaped as a human, if the wind hadn't started to whip around them. Even with the wind and lightly lit moon, it was still hard to tell if the person was real. The person could merely be a shadow, haunting and darkly beautiful; a dark angel, if you will.  
  
It may come as a shock to you, dear reader (or not) to find that the dark angel is none other than Fuuma... er, Dark Kamui.  
  
Fuuma had been restless that night, his mind not allowing him to sleep. So, he had gotten up and wandered following the glittering glow of the stars sewn on to the patchwork quilt of the night. It was no one's surprise (even to him) that he ended up where he was: The building facing Kamui's window at CLAMP Campus. Unbeknownst to Kamui, Fuuma often watched his lover from afar, admiring his delicate counter self. To see him move with grace and pain was almost as much fun as 'playing' with him, as he writhed under Fuuma's command.   
  
He was watching Kamui now, working at his desk. Kamui seemed to be frustrated with something, as he kept placing his soft, delicate hand to the paper, brows knit in thought, and then brought his hand back as he leaned on the opposite hand. He seemed to also be breathing in abnormal patterns as his chest would rise and fall at different intervals. His love seemed to be having problems.  
  
Another person came in through the door between two rooms. Fuuma recognized them as Kamui's roommate (not Sorata) but he didn't know (or even cared to know) his name. He raised an eyebrow as Kamui seemed to be giving this guy the time of day.  
  
The bell rang from a clock tower eleven times. Fuuma smirked. Time to make his move.  
  
***  
  
Kamui bit his lip. "Keiichi, can I ask you something?"  
  
Keiichi raised an eyebrow. Kamui never wanted to ask him anything. (Maybe because, as cute as he is, he can be annoying as hell) He smirked. Perhaps Kamui wanted to ask him to be his boyfriend. He knew he was rubbing off on him, but this was a real treat. He sat down on Kamui's bed. "Sure," he purred. "Anything."  
  
Kamui was confused. What was Keiichi's voice suggesting? He shook his head. "Let's just say that I have to write this story for Lit class."  
  
"Mmhmm," Keiichi raised his hand to his face and began stroking his chin. "Continue."  
  
"And in this story, some nights, this guy is confronted by the one he loves."  
  
Keiichi smirked. "Uh-huh." images of his and Kamui began to spring to his mind.  
  
"But after that night, he leaves..." Kamui looked away. "What do you think... the person, his lover, thinks of him?"  
  
Keiichi swallowed. Obviously this wasn't about him. "That's a deep story, Kamui-chan."  
  
"Yeah... you don't have to answer."  
  
"Do you think that maybe his lover is using him?"  
  
Kamui's head snapped up. "What?" he said, sharply.  
  
Keiichi inhaled sharply. 'Weird reaction.' He smiled at Kamui. "Nothing."  
  
Kamui wasn't affected by his smile. "It's okay, really." he thought for a minute. "Why did you come in here, anyway?"  
  
"Toothpaste." Kamui noticed the empty tube of toothpaste in his hand. "Ran out this morning and forgot to pick up some after school."  
  
Kamui rolled his eyes and handed him a new tube. "Keiichi, can you please leave me to my misery?"  
  
"Sure." he said. "I'll just leave you alone, but if you ever need any comforting..."  
  
"Keiichi..."  
  
"Got it!" Keiichi opened the door between him and Kamui's rooms and shut the door behind him.  
  
Kamui pushed the button on the doorknob, assuring him safety. He yawned and stretched his arms. He had a serious science test tomorrow that he needed to rest for. He turned off the lights and turned toward the window by his bed.   
  
A shadowy figure leaned against the wall by his windows. Kamui stared at the figure. From what he could detect, he was staring at the figure's profile. Maybe if he tiptoed backwards, he could avoid confrontation.  
  
Fuuma tapped the windows and Kamui knew that he was spotted. He was also giving him a warning. Just three weeks ago, when Kamui tried to sneak away, Fuuma broke the windows and Kamui endured losing the most blood that was humanly possible to and still be alive. Let's just say that Fuuma got creative with the broken glass.  
  
Kamui's gentle hands held onto the window handles. He pulled them down and open. A gust of wind blew him backwards a bit and Kamui found himself on the floor, Fuuma looming over him.  
  
"Good evening, Kamui." Fuuma's voice became low and seductive.  
  
Kamui got up quickly, but before anything else could happen, Fuuma grabbed his hand and twisted them both onto the bed.  
  
Fuuma let his eyes linger on the boy underneath him for a minute longer. Kamui's perfectly crafted body was squirming under him. He made a move as if to push Fuuma off, but Fuuma grabbed his other hand and pinned both of his hands above his head. Fuuma let him mouth brush against Kamui's neck and jawline, etching every curve and line of his body in Fuuma's mind.  
  
"Fuuma," Kamui's voice was nothing more than a timid, yet husky voice in the night. "We need to talk."  
  
Meanwhile, Fuuma's mouth had been trying to find a weak spot on Kamui's neck, but his hand, the one not pinning Kamui's wrists, had been working on Kamui's belt buckle. "Kamui, I'm not really in the mood for talking." he smiled as he successfully managed to unbuckle Kamui's pants without looking. "I really want to hear you scream in the night."  
  
Then Kamui did something interesting. He turned his head, exposing his neck. "I'm nothing but a toy to you, right?" Tears began to course down his cheeks. "Nothing but something to fill your time with until the Promised Day."  
  
Fuuma stopped nibbling on Kamui's neck. "Trust me, Kamui, you're much more than what you give yourself credit for."  
  
Kamui turned and looked back to Fuuma. "Then what am I to you?"  
  
Fuuma took a deep breath and sighed. This night was over for him. He got up from the bed and began to walk towards the door.   
  
"Wait!" Kamui called out. He kicked off his pants, which had reached his knees by now, and sat up on the bed. "You get back here, Fuuma Monou!"  
  
Fuuma stopped. "I think you know what I'm going to say."  
  
"I don't care what you're going to say about your stupid name." he said. "You get back here and answer me!"  
  
It became apparent that Fuuma wasn't coming back to bed. So, Kamui took matters into his own hands. He jumped out for the bed, pushed Fuuma to the wall and kissed him. Emotions pent up in Kamui broke free from its gates and flowed through the kiss like water. His hands traced Fuuma's chest, his fingers teasing his neck. Kamui soon realized that he wasn't the only one who felt this emotion because he might have started the kiss, but Fuuma had already pinned him to the wall.  
  
Kamui's kiss seemed to be drawing information from him and asking for something more. The kiss became more passionate and aggressive. Fuuma was surprised. After all, Kamui was the uke in this relationship.  
  
They both found themselves tripping towards the bed. Their fiery dance began, both of them fighting to be dominant. Fuuma found it a real turn on to have Kamui trying to regain the offensive instead of just defending himself. But everytime Kamui tried to advance, Fuuma always knew how to counter him.  
  
The dance continued at its full speed until they both ended up in about the same position they started, Kamui underneath him. Fuuma was laying heavily on him so that Kamui's breath tickled his ear. He stroked the back of Fuuma's neck lightly with his fingers.  
  
"So, what am I to you?" he asked, with a certain tremour in his voice.  
  
Fuuma pulled himself up and looked at the boy beneath him. He marked each feature like a portrait in his mind, from the delicate curve in his hips to his violet-colored eyes and long lashes. He brought up his left hand and traced Kamui's chest. "To me, you're poetry."  
  
"Poetry," Kamui shivered underneath him.  
  
"Every part of your body has been crafted to fit correctly, like a puzzle." he gently laid back down on top of him. "But together, with your personality, you are the embodiment of words that can't be spoken."  
  
Fuuma got up from the bed and threw his clothes on. Kamui watched him get dressed. When Fuuma caught him staring, he blushed and looked away. Fuuma jumped up to the windowsill and opened the windows, the wind rustling through his (now bendable) hair. The moon was still high. It and its fellow stars awaited him, urging him to let them cloak him in the darkness and guide him back home.  
  
Kamui turned back around and sat up, watching his dark lover. He mentally sketched a portrait in his mind, tracing his sturdy jawline to his broad shoulders and secretive smile. The smile was so enchanting. It unlocked doors that were never meant to be locked.  
  
In some way, Fuuma was poetry to him, too.  
  
Fuuma turned to Kamui, and this time Kamui didn't look away. He mouthed the word 'Poetry' before falling through the window.  
  
Kamui felt his lips twitch as he pulled his legs up to his chest. Keiichi was wrong after all...  
  
~Owari~  
  
A/N: I love that story!!!!!!!! I dunno, I just really love it. It's different, you know. And it's refreshing to see a different Fuuma. Please review. Ja ne!!! 


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